


∞cubed

by esteefee



Series: Fair Trade [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, Disability, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from <i>Möbius</i>, from the Fair Trade AU, in which John owns a coffee roastery and Rodney designs science exhibits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	∞cubed

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for warnings.
> 
> [Podfic read by Wihluta](http://www.audiofic.jinjurly.com/infinity-cubed).
> 
> This was supposed to be for [](http://kisa-hawklin.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kisa-hawklin.livejournal.com/)**kisa_hawklin** 's birthday except  
> it's late late late. Happy late birthday, Kisa! ~:

Lately, in the afternoon, when the sunlight hits the western windows of the roastery, painting the old floorboards red and gold, burning the edge of John's arm where it rests on the varnished table so he has to turn sideways and wedge his elbow in the corner to read the paper, he'll look across and see Rodney squinting and fussing with the contrast on his screen, and John will heave himself up and limp over to draw the shade that is one foot away from Rodney right hand.

Rodney won't even notice, of course; not for a long time, until night has fallen and he's blinking at the diagrams on his screen again because now it's been hours, and John has long since finished his paper and the final roast and is working on a crossword or puzzling over the books. John can hear Sandi sweeping up in back, and Ahs has already rolled out the trash and is bagging the day's extra pastries to go to the shelter. Pretty soon they'll be locking up and John will have to confiscate Rodney's laptop, because Ronon and Teyla are coming over tonight so Ahs can kick all their asses at poker. Usually it's just John and Zeke and Sandi that he rooks, but tonight he has some new suckers. Including Rodney, if John can tear him away from his computer.

"Rodney. C'mon, buddy, time to shut down."

"In a minute, in a minute," Rodney says in that way that means he hasn't engaged brain to mouth at all. It's okay; it's not even the fifteen-minute warning yet. John just wanted to make the first foray into Rodney's three-gated alarm system.

John gets up and goes in back. He has some bagging to do now that the beans have cooled, and it'll help his hip to move around a little since he'll be sitting down to play for a couple of hours.

The fresh, oily beans slip through the scooper and down the hole into the bag sitting on the scale. John measures out a pound then lets the bag drop on the counter a couple of times to settle the beans. Folding down the bag takes a few practiced flips, and then he tucks in the wire flaps and admires Sandi's brand-new Doubledoc logo for a moment before pushing the bag aside and starting on the next.

It takes him about ten minutes to finish up all the beans in the hopper, then he rolls all the bags to the store room and sets them on the shelf.

It's a good batch. And it's been a good day, even if his hip aches a little. He wonders if he can get Rodney to rub it down with some Tiger Balm for him tonight, or if that would be too geriatric and weird. Then again, if he goes through with the surgery there will probably be bedpans or worse in his future.

But it's a good day, so he's not thinking about that shit.

"Hey, boss—Dr. Dex is here." Ahsarvat pokes his head in and flashes a too-eager smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your shorts on. You'll get your hands on my wallet soon enough."

Ahs looks innocent. "I am enjoying these fun social customs with my new American friends."

"Ahs, you grew up in Philly, remember?" John limps over and pushes him toward the front room.

"Philly is a lot like Bangladesh, boss. Only with hoagies."

"Hoagies? There are hoagies?" Rodney says, looking up from his computer finally.

"Not tonight, Rodney. We're ordering pizza. From that frou-frou place you like."

"Mmm. Goat Hill. I hope we get the potato garlic."

John kind of hopes they don't all decide on the garlic, if only for his own sake, but doesn't say so out loud. Rodney can be sensitive about things like that, and would probably refuse to kiss him or let John blow him for a day or something annoying and Rodney-like. Instead, he says 'hey' to Dex and gets a gentle clap on the shoulder.

"What can I get you, Doc?"

"Coffee. Gotta be up for a surgery, so make it a decaf."

John can practically hear Rodney trying not to snort with derision, but then Rodney can drink a full cup of joe and crash into bed two minutes later.

John brews it up fresh and by the time it's done Ahs has already pushed two tables together and laid the felt poker cover over it. Then he goes around setting out chips and dip. Teyla knocks on the door right around then and everyone gets up to greet her. John makes up her favorite late night drink, a chai latte, and brings it over when he comes to say 'hi.'

"John." She smiles and he's knocked over, as always, by her beauty and serene intelligence.

"Hi, Teyla. Chai?"

"Thank you. It's been...a long day." She does look tired, and he wonders if she lost a patient or something, but she brightens when she takes a sip of the chai, and squeezes his hand before sitting down next to Ronon, who has one arm hooked behind Sandi's chair. And then John sees the open seat Rodney has saved next to him, so he sits down and Rodney's fingers ruffle up into his hair. He leans over automatically and gives Rodney a brief kiss on his temple, nuzzling the soft skin there, feels more than sees Rodney's cheek curve in a smile and—

—and suddenly it's weird. Because everyone is here—a good chunk of the people he gives a damn about in the world are all here in one room—he's not sure why he thinks about it right then except they're all looking at him expectantly for some reason, and John realizes this is the first time he and Rodney have been really obvious in front of all of them. Obviously together. He gets a cold sinking sensation that freezes him in his chair.

But Teyla is smiling at them both, and Sandi is grinning from ear to ear. Ronon is grabbing some tortilla chips but looks up briefly to smirk and slide the deck of cards over. Then he nonchalantly tosses a chip in the air and catches it in his mouth to crunch on it with his even teeth.

Ahs says, "Dr. McKay, boss tells me you are a genius, yes? But you must promise not to take advantage of us poor, intellectually unendowed people." He swipes the cards from John and deftly shuffles the deck.

Then he proceeds to clean them all out.

:::

It's not too late when John rides his bike next to Rodney to his little house up the street, but John is kind of exhausted, anyway, and still a little freaked out by what happened earlier. Not that anything happened. By what didn't happen, maybe.

Too many years in the service, too many years of hiding, and then too many years of being alone. He's just not used to this—but he feels like he's been holding something fragile all evening, not wanting to let go of it, and wishing a little he could share it with Rodney, but kind of scared to, at the same time.

So once they're inside and have finished getting ready for bed, John tugs Rodney away from his one last email and walks him into the bedroom, his chin hooked over Rodney's shoulder and one hand trapped under the waist of Rodney's T-shirt, palm against the smooth skin of his belly.

Rodney grumbles, "I didn't get a chance to save to draft," but there's no fight in his voice, and he lifts his arms obligingly when John strips off his T-shirt, and he kicks off his shoes and lets John tug off his pants. Rodney's boxers are bright yellow with infinity symbols sprinkled in various sizes all over, and John palms his cheeks, squeezing once appreciatively and making Rodney yelp before pushing them down and off.

Then Rodney crawls onto his bed then turns over and says, "You still have—" he waves, "with the clothes. Off."

Even though Rodney's already seen the scars, John still turns slightly to the right before pulling off his shirt and dropping his jeans and shorts. He leaves them in a puddle with his sneakers and socks and then leans onto the bed with all his weight on his good hip, keeping his bad leg straight and resting his arm over the knotted tangle of raised skin. He can feel it, rough and unpleasant, pressing underneath his forearm, when he rolls over to kiss Rodney, who rises to meet him.

"Good day today," John murmurs against Rodney's lips. He still feels it, a thin-skinned bubble of warmth in his chest, a mystery centered on this impossible, crazy guy who just _decided_ , somehow, for them both, that they needed each other around.

Rodney just sighs and kisses him back, a little tired-seeming but still enthusiastic enough that John thinks he won't mind if John scrapes the edges of his teeth over Rodney's pink nipple to make it perk up and then sucks it even harder so he can bite, just a little, applying pressure until Rodney jerks and moans and paws at John's shoulder, Rodney's impatient _Get on with it_ gesture that is fast becoming familiar.

John is impatient too, has wanted this for hours, it feels like. He's not sure Rodney has any idea how pretty he looks like this, all flushed pink, the thin skin of his shoulders showing tracings of blue veins marbling the strong muscles. John presses his teeth into a thick bicep, and Rodney cuffs him on the side of the head, saying, "Freak." But there's altogether too much affection in his voice, and it resonates in John's gut, threatening to shatter the fragile thing hiding in his chest, and he has to duck his head down and rest his forehead against Rodney's shoulder for just a second.

Rodney's hand drifts into his hair and scratches tentatively, but he doesn't, thankfully, say anything, and after a moment John lifts his head and continues his way down, kissing the smooth swell of Rodney's stomach and curling his hand around Rodney's soft cock. He cradles it to pull the lax shaft and head into his mouth, sucking him hard, resting his cheek on Rodney's groin.

Rodney moans softly, still petting restlessly through John's hair, pushing against the grain and raising shivers on John's skin. John plants his left hand on the bed by Rodney's waist to give himself better leverage and starts a good rhythm, going down and sucking hard on the way up, turned on by Rodney's whimpers and the taste and smell of him, the way his cock rides against John's tongue. After a while John lets go of the shaft to reach down to his own cock so he can stroke himself, but it's too distracting and hard to keep his balance, his hip aching a little from the strain, so he stops and focuses on Rodney's cock in his mouth, Rodney's hands running over him, and when John teases his balls with a gentle hand, Rodney cries out sharply and comes, his fingers digging into John's shoulder.

John lets Rodney's come collect in his mouth before pulling away to swallow harshly, rubbing the back of his hand over his lips. When he turns his head Rodney is staring at him through half-lidded eyes, his mouth open and loose, expression come-blissed. Rodney licks his lips and John's cock jerks, reminding him, but his arousal seems strangely unimportant. He pushes his palm on the base of his cock to quiet it down, and settles next to Rodney again, this time resting his head on Rodney's chest to listen as his breathing slows to normal.

It feels good to just lie here and not think, just feel like he's in the right place finally, with the right person. With someone his friends have accepted. The last time he'd felt like this was ten years ago and a war away, on his wedding night. He's amazed the thought doesn't send him screaming, but somehow it doesn't, and he just floats in the moment.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" comes Rodney's wry voice, and then Rodney is tugging at him, pulling him up for a kiss. And, no, it's not like John's forgotten his hard-on—in fact, he's been absently stroking it while lying there—but now he pushes it rudely against Rodney's thigh and says, "Nope," then snickers when Rodney rolls his eyes.

"Come here," Rodney says imperiously, and proceeds to wrap his arms around John and twists unexpectedly, trying to roll him over.

 _Oh, shit,_ John has time to think, freezing up in an effort to lock his hip, but he lands awkwardly and the momentum of his leg pulls it to a bad angle, making him gasp and jack-knife, clutching at his thigh. He bumps right into Rodney, who yelps when their elbows knock, and then they are both still—John sitting upright with his right leg in both hands, his left trapped under Rodney, who is half reclining and rubbing his arm, staring at him in alarm.

"Sorry," John says when he can speak. He feels himself grimacing, and smoothes his expression and shrugs. "Equipment issues, remember?"

"Oh! I—did I—?"

"Not your fault." John makes himself smile. "It got caught funny."

"Because I pushed you." Rodney's mouth twists.

John shakes his head. "I wasn't ready. I just need to be ready. Anyway—" he lies back down and strokes himself, "losing momentum, here. Help a guy out?"

The worried look eases, and Rodney leans over him, his mouth hovering over John's groin. John offers him his cock, and Rodney takes in the head, pouting his lips and tongue over it, so warm and wet and soft. John shifts his grip to the base of his shaft to give Rodney more room and slowly jacks himself into Rodney's mouth, then closes his eyes and focuses on the wet sounds Rodney's making sucking on him, and the way his tongue is smoothing around and down and up and around again, over and over. John feels the bed shift, feels Rodney nudging the inside of his good leg, and John shivers a little and bends his knee, making room, giving Rodney access. It's no secret anymore, not to Rodney, that John likes his ass played with, loves being fingered, comes harder with Rodney's fingers or cock up his ass. Another first, trusting someone with that information. With Nancy, he hadn't known, and later, he'd kept his enjoyment to himself, only letting go once he was out of the service and discovered the solo enjoyment of a good dildo.

But Rodney is better than any goddamned sex toy, getting two fingers good and slick with spit and sliding them in halfway before gathering a little more wet and coming back, pressing up, and John rocks his fist down while Rodney fucks him with his fingers and sucks the head of his cock, and it doesn't get any better than this, forcing noises from the back of John's throat that sound almost fake, they're so dirty. He feels his face and chest grow hot, and then his nuts draw up and he's coming hard, squeezing down on Rodney's fingers while they curl up and rub just exactly right.

"Jesus _Christ!_ " John yells. Rodney just hums and sucks him, swallowing him down like he's candy, or coffee. John shudders and feels himself go totally limp, wincing when Rodney eases out his fingers. Rodney smirks a little as he rolls off the bed, and he smiles down at John for a long moment before padding off into the bathroom.

"Sounded like you enjoyed that," Rodney says over the sound of the sink.

"Uhh," John tries to reply. His mouth doesn't work quite right. He's cooling down fast in the drafty room, so he rolls to his good side to loosen up the sheet, then puffs it over his bad hip to keep it warm.

He lifts it again a minute later, when Rodney comes back in, to let him slide underneath, and then Rodney reaches up and snaps off the light and plops his pointy chin on John's chest.

"Ow?" John nudges Rodney's head with his cheek trying to get him into a more comfortable position.

Rodney makes a disgruntled sound and shifts over. "Tonight was...I enjoyed myself tonight. Despite the utter humiliation at Ahsarvat's hands. Your friends. I liked your friends. Your friends seemed to...like me?"

Automatically, John wraps an arm over Rodney's back and hugs him. "They did, yeah. Of course."

"I never thought—" Rodney huffs, and John has to nudge him into continuing. "A scientist is accustomed to solitary pursuits." The formal words are at odds with Rodney's quiet, small voice, and John gathers him upwards to kiss his cheek, to kiss the down-tilted corner of the mouth John knows is there. Maybe Rodney is as surprised by all this as John is. Funny how that really hadn't occurred to him.

"Well, get used to being—you're with me, now." But there has to be a better way to say it, so John palms the side of Rodney's head and whispers in his ear, "This is it for me, Rodney. I hope you know that."

"God, John," Rodney whispers back. "You'd better. You'd really had better, because I was counting on it. Forever. Infinity."

John heaves a relieved breath. "Infinity _cubed_ ," he says a little stupidly, and Rodney snorts a little, which, yeah, okay, it's mathematically impossible, but suddenly nothing seems impossible, and John's thinking crazy things like scribbling it on his own boxers with a Sharpie, ∞3, over and over, just to hear Rodney call him romantic sap.

John's pretty comfortable with that.

Rodney stirs in his arms, twisting to try to pull himself on top of him, but John quickly eases him over to his good side so his hip is out of the way, and Rodney slots in naturally, like he was expecting it, and now they're skin against skin, a little too warm and sticky, but John can feel every breath Rodney's taking, feels the rub of their chest hair and the softness of their dicks pressing next to each other. It's intimate and warm, and John almost laughs realizing he's been waiting for something all night, maybe for the bubble to crack and burst and bleed, but now it feels like it's just expanded to include them both inside.

And it's good. It's so goddamned good in here.

"Teyla almost had Ahs beat for a while there," Rodney says sleepily.

"She did." John smiles thinking of the way Teyla's eyes gleamed when she won that one big pot and said, _"Come to poppa!"_ then scooped up all the chips.

"I'll have to learn how to count cards."

"You'll have to get yourself a poker face first, sport."

"Hrm."

But Rodney is obviously too sleepy to frame a good rebuttal, and a few seconds later he makes a funny snuffling sound. John tucks the edge of the sheet between them so it won't slip free during the night, and then he closes his eyes.

Behind them, in the dark, he can almost see forever.

  
 _End._

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: John is partially disabled due to injury; we do hope it isn't permanent.
> 
> To my mind, Ahs is a naturalized American (some call it first generation American, others argue first generation means first generation born in America), and he immigrated to Philly when he was young enough to acculturate, and thus straddles many distinct cultures, his formative East Indian cultures, and his American east and west coast cultures. He's thus in a prime position to poke fun at/take advantage of people's stereotyping.
> 
> [Goat Hill Pizza](http://www.goathill.com/) in Potrero Hill, SF. God, their pesto pizza.


End file.
